Spring.
New promises, new beginnings.
Zevulun fought between elated and excited to nervous and guilty. Any time he watched the growing bellies of Ethra and Grier, he could barely keep himself from smiling. Any time he caught sight of Riesling, his gut was suddenly cold as ice and he found it hard to catch his breath. It was a lot for Zevulun, but he did one thing this season that he hadn’t done in autumn. Zevulun stayed.
Straying from the islands during fall had brought more potential gifts and possible problems. Every day he fought the urge to swim for Tinuvel or Salem and challenge two separate stallions for two very different mares for two very different reasons. Vera, because she carried his child, and his heart fluttered when she looked up at him so sweetly. Sabriel, because he felt they had etched each other’s names on their hearts with one meeting, and he couldn’t get her off his mind. He worried if he put one hoof into the ocean, he would inevitably find himself washing up on either of those shores and cave to the testosterone-filled instinct to fight.
But on this day he went to the beach. The guilt of Riesling’s pregnancy was pushing heavy at him, nagging him, and he felt himself growing restless. He told himself he would make sure to swim straight across to the Peak where he could visit his aunt and see if she’d had her foal yet. He wouldn’t stir up any more complications for himself that could possibly lead to bringing issues to the Prairie’s otherwise peaceful doorstep.
The cold surf welcomed him with glee, pale tail floating through the saltwater as he kicked his muscles legs and powered through the surf. Being born of the islands and an explorer who traveled them often made the swim fee quite easy. It wasn’t long before Zevulun was pulling himself up on the shoreline beneath the Peak’s massive shadow. He glanced up at it, looming high as though touching the clouds, and frowned.
He didn’t want to see his aunt. What if she asked him why he wasn’t at home? Or even jokingly wondered how many great-nephews and great-nieces he would be giving her this spring?
Water dropped off his cream coat as he glanced back over his shoulder and considered a defeated swim back home.
He didn’t want to go back, either.
He sighed mostly in frustration at himself and turned forward, moving into an amble walk with no distinct destination in mind. He skirted around the mountains at the Peak, down through the Falls and didn’t once stop for conversation. There was plenty of opportunity for a social butterfly like himself, but something inside him kept pushing him on. Maybe he wouldn’t talk to anyone, too afraid to potentially make more trouble for himself. Maybe he would just spend the day walking in his own company, reflecting over how his first year returned to the islands had been.
He walked down through the Commons, making for the beach. What if he swam for the Ruins? He had met Tavas at the Ruins. He had met Ethra at the Ruins. Clearly there was something among the protruding remains of Cimarron that made certain he met the most important horses when he traveled there.
Of course, Calypso had washed up on the beaches of the Commons…
Zevulun’s walk slowed to a steady halt where land gave way to beach and glanced quietly down at the spot where he’d first seen Calypso injured and washed ashore. His heart ached worriedly all over again. One day when the drama he currently faced had passed and he had new problems, Zevulun would look back at this moment and be warmed by how many troubles were in his life now. When Mariael had taken him, Maziel, and his sons to the Mainlands, Zevulun’s life had felt… empty.
Now it was full…
A little movement caught his attention and Zevulun turned his head, taking note of a pretty blue roan mare standing alone down the beach. His pink-lined ears perked forward and he rumbled with a nicker behind closed lips, his flared nostrils quivering and pale-white tail flagging like a banner at his hind. He couldn’t help himself…
Zevulun would always be a sucker for the whims of his heart.
He could see the way her tousled, dark mane had dried from the seawater the closer he drew to her. Zevulun stopped himself at a respectable distance, careful not to press into her space too quickly, and stretched his muscled neck to offer his nose for her to share their breaths.
“Hello…” He said, pulling his chin back and fighting how large he wanted to smile. “Are you lost?”
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